


Ask Me No Questions

by purplestarfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Consensual, Love Confessions, M/M, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 09:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14399448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplestarfish/pseuds/purplestarfish
Summary: “I want blackout security in conference room 4,” Phil ordered. “Security protocol J, all surveillance cut. And get me Hawkeye.”In which Phil gets dosed with a truth serum, and there’s only one person he wants to see.





	Ask Me No Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on a couple of longer things, but wanted to get this out in the meantime. Hope you like it!
> 
> Please leave comments!

“I want blackout security in conference room 4,” Phil ordered. “Security protocol J, all surveillance cut. And get me Hawkeye.”

 

_Fuck everything_.

 

Phil had been on a simple recon mission at a fundraising gala, when his attention had slipped for an instant and someone had managed to drug his drink with truth serum. He’d managed to extract himself without compromising any vital information, and had been screened by medical to ensure there wouldn’t be any life-threatening side effects, but now all he could do was wait for Fitzsimmons to come up with an antidote.

 

He didn’t have time for that.

 

He buried his head in some paperwork while he waited for Barton to show up. The action plan for the Bermuda mission needed to be in by three so the team could get moving, but they needed at least a second set of eyes. And someone to brief the team, since so far Phil was the only one with the relevant intel, and he couldn’t exactly run a briefing in his current condition.

 

As Phil was groaning in frustration at a weak spot he’d just noticed in one of the blueprints for the cruise ship, Barton strolled into the conference room and locked the door behind him.

 

“Hey Boss, Hill sent me. Wh – ”

 

“No questions, Barton.” Phil ground out the order harshly.

 

Barton blinked once, then stood sharply at attention. “Yes, sir,” he replied.

 

Phil exhaled a sigh of relief.

 

“Barton,” he said flatly, “I’ve been drugged with some kind of truth serum. I can’t tell a lie. It seems I’m able to avoid delicate subjects, but only if I’m not asked a direct question. So I need you not to ask me anything. Understood?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Barton said.

 

“Good,” Phil nodded. “I need your advice on these mission plans. And I need you to be prepared to brief the team at 1500. Take a look and tell me what you think.”

 

Barton reached for the papers Phil had handed him. He spent several minutes reading them in silence, before eventually looking up.

 

“I think we need a fourth asset on the team, someone to pose as security and keep eyes off Nat,” he said finally. “I’d recommend Sidhu, they’ve shown real skill when it comes to diversion.”

 

“Good idea,” Phil said. “Can you put in the call to get them on security?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Barton answered, already pulling out his phone. “I also want to take another look at your extraction plan after this. I think there could be a gap if Nat has to go off comms for any reason.”

 

Phil frowned in thought. Barton was right, of course. He nodded gratefully.

 

“Come back when you’re off the phone and we’ll work something out.”

 

Barton left without another word, and when he came back, they finished planning the op without incident. Barton went to brief the team, and Phil breathed a sigh of relief.

 

That’s one crisis handled.

 

\---

 

It took two whole days before Fitzsimmons figured out an antidote for the serum. During that time, Phil was stuck in the conference room, and the only person coming in or out was Barton. He’d drop by a few times a day to bring Phil food and coffee, and sometimes he’d sit on the couch in the corner of the room and just read. Or occasionally nap.

 

By the end of the two days, Phil was nearly at his wit’s end, and he threw down his pen in frustration.

 

“I hate this,” he sighed. Barton looked up from his book in sympathy.

 

“Look at it this way, Boss,” he said, “At least you aren’t stuck for days in one position in a sniper’s nest. You can move around and shit.”

 

“I know that’s supposed to be helpful, Barton, but I’m really not in the mood for your cheering,” he said brusquely, then grimaced at the harsh words.

 

“Fair enough, sorry Boss,” Barton answered. “I’ll tell you a story instead. Stop me if it’s not helpful.” Then he started regaling Phil with stories of his various exploits at the circus. Many of them Phil had heard before, but several were new. He had to admit, it helped to pass the time. And it put Phil’s teeth slightly less on edge to know he wasn’t going to be expected to talk anytime soon.

 

Perhaps sensing that it was calming Phil, Barton continued to monologue for hours. He seemed to go through an ungodly amount of coffee as his did so, even by Phil’s standards, but by the end of it Phil was pretty sure he knew more about Barton’s life story than anyone. Probably almost as much as Barton himself.

 

It was a comforting thought, even if it left a dull ache in his chest. It was a familiar ache, one that Phil had come to know and love over the years.

 

Eventually, Phil grew exhausted, and he let out a yawn. That seemed to get Barton’s attention, even as he was in the middle of an epic tale involving a lion, a fire juggler, and a zip line.

 

“You should get some rest, Boss,” Barton said. “Hopefully by the time you wake up there’ll be an antidote. I’ll go check in with Fitzsimmons and Medical for you.”

 

He appreciated how Barton always seemed to know exactly what he needed, without him needing to give a single order. He supposed they didn’t call him Hawkeye for nothing, but his attention to detail truly was remarkable, and not something Phil had experienced firsthand before he’d brought Barton in to S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

There was that ache again.

 

Phil nodded his thanks. “Thank you, Barton,” he said. “See you in a bit.”

 

\---

 

Barton had been right. By the time Phil woke up from his nap on the couch – which smelled comfortingly of a certain archer – Fitzsimmons had an antidote and he was back to his typical self. He asked an administrative assistant to cart his papers back up to his office, then went to check in with Fury before heading home to spend the night in an actual bed.

 

\---

 

It was the next morning, and Phil was up early and at the office before the break of dawn. Still, he knew he wouldn’t be the first one at S.H.I.E.L.D. for the morning, and he could guess Barton would be at the range getting in some target practice while it was still relatively empty.

 

He went to check, and sure enough, there was Barton trying out some new exploding arrows Stark had designed with his two new interns. Although, he supposed the girl could hardly be called an intern since at sixteen she knew more about robotics than Stark himself.

 

Phil stood back and watched the target practice in silence. You didn’t interrupt Hawkeye when he was in his happy place.

 

It was about twenty minutes before Barton shot down the last drone and lowered his bow, turning to face Phil. He smiled and walked towards him, stretching his shoulders as he went.

 

“Hey, Boss,” he said, “I heard you can lie again. I’ll need you to confirm that.”

 

Phil smiled. For such a typically nonchalant person, Barton sure knew when to take safety precautions.

 

“Your shirt is yellow,” he confirmed. Barton exhaled.

 

“Well good,” he said, then leaned back against a pole, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Phil pursed his lips. “Fine,” he answered.

 

Barton just raised an eyebrow.

 

“I will be fine,” Phil amended.

 

Barton took another moment before he spoke. “Look, sir, I know you’re not really the talking-about-feelings kind of guy, but… I also know what it’s like to be out of control like that. To have your body not listen to the things your brain is telling it. So if you ever want to talk…”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Barton,” Phil said, and meant it.

 

But this wasn’t what Phil had come to talk about right now. He took a deep breath before continuing.

 

“Clint?” he asked, and he could tell that Clint noticed the change in address immediately from the way his posture shifted.

 

“Yeah, Phil?”

 

“Would you like to order pizza and watch Dog Cops tonight?”

 

Clint smiled. “Absolutely! Meet me at my place? What, 7-ish?”

 

“That sounds great,” Phil nodded.

 

As he left the archery range, Phil took a moment to close his eyes and psych himself up for what he was about to do.

 

\---

 

Phil knocked on the door to Clint’s apartment at 6:58 pm.

 

“Come in!” he heard the shout from inside, and rolled his eyes once again at Clint’s terrible habit of leaving the door unlocked. Every time he brought it up, Clint argued that he “was a badass” and “could take anyone who broke in,” so Phil had given up fighting it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still bother him.

 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Clint called as Phil made his way over to the couch.

 

“Not bad,” Phil answered.

 

He told Clint a little bit about his day while Clint dug up the newest episode of Dog Cops on Netflix.

 

“What kind of pizza do you want?” Clint asked.

 

“Ham and pineapple,” Phil answered. Then he smirked as Clint turned to face him, an incredulous look on his face.

 

“What, you just trying to prove you can lie now?” Clint asked. “You think I don’t know you’ve succumbed to the misguided view that ‘pineapple and pizza don’t go together, Clint’?”

 

Phil chuckled. “All right, if you know me so well, then just order for me,” he teased.

 

Clint grabbed the phone and started to dial. “One Veggie Supreme Deluxe, coming right up!” Phil smiled and fiddled with his own phone as Clint placed the order.

 

“Hey, before we start the episode, can I talk to you about something?” Phil asked when Clint hung up. He bit his lip.

 

Clint frowned. “Yeah, of course, Phil. What’s up?”

 

Phil took a deep breath. “Look, I guess I just wanted to thank you… for being such a professional the last couple of days,” he said at last. That wasn’t really where he was going with this, but he figured it was as good a start as any.

 

“’Course,” Clint shrugged.

 

“Right,” said Phil. “But, I guess… I wanted to say something else too.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Before I say this, I just want to be very clear that I’m speaking only in my personal capacity as your friend, all right? I’m not your boss right now.”

 

Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, no shit, Phil. We’ve known each other more than twenty fucking years, I think I can separate our friendship from our work relationship by now, don’t you?”

 

Phil supposed he couldn’t argue with that. Even when Clint wandered into Phil’s office in the middle of the day, Phil could tell before Clint even opened his mouth whether he was going to be “Phil” or “Boss” for the conversation.

 

“Okay, good,” Phil said. “Clint, the thing is… and there’s no pressure here at all, nothing needs to change if you don’t want it to, but… after the whole thing with the truth serum, I guess I just sort of realized there was no reason not to say it, so… I have feelings for you.”

 

Clint blinked. He looked stunned, and Phil turned red and gazed down at his hands, waiting for the upcoming rejection.

 

“… What?” Clint asked.

 

_Ugh_ , Phil really didn’t want to repeat himself. But he would, of course he would.

 

“I h-have… feelings for you, Clint,” he stuttered.

 

 “Wow,” Clint breathed. Phil didn’t dare to look up and risk making eye contact.

 

Clint continued. “Just to be clear, when you say feelings…?”

 

“Romantic feelings,” Phil grit out.

 

“Right, no, sure, I got that,” Clint said, “But, like… are we talkin’ little feelings? Or like, medium-sized feelings? Or…”

 

“Big fucking feelings, Clint,” Phil sighed, and finally looked up to meet his eyes, though mostly in irritation at this line of questioning. _Damn_ , talking to Barton when he’d been under the truth serum had been so much easier than this. “I’m in love with you, okay?” he finished, pathetically.

 

Clint blinked several times. Then a slow smile seemed to spread across his face like a sunrise. For the first time all evening, Phil let himself hope.

 

“Really?” Clint grinned.

 

“Really,” Phil said truthfully.

 

“How long…?”

 

“About the last fifteen years,” Phil answered.

 

“You’ve been in love with – with _me_ – for fifteen years?” Clint asked.

 

“Could you say something that’s not a goddamn question, please?” Phil practically begged.

 

Clint seemed to shake himself out of some kind of daze.

 

“Fuck, sorry, of course,” he said, “Phil, I… I love you too.”

 

Phil’s heart soared.

 

Still, he had to be sure. “You’re not just saying that?” he asked.

 

Clint beamed and shook his head. “Phil, I’ve been in love with you since practically that first mission in Paris,” he said. “I just never thought you’d really…”

 

_Huh._

 

“Huh,” Phil said, “I guess I never thought you would either.”

 

“Can I kiss you?” Clint asked, and now for the first time – since Phil had known him, really – he seemed shy.

 

Phil nodded, then leaned in for a deep, heart-melting kiss. It stayed closed-mouthed and chaste, but Phil felt like he was breathing in all of Clint, diving into something brand new and coming home all at the same time.

 

When they drew away, they looked at each other in awe. Then Clint’s face seemed to shift to something resembling curiosity.

 

“So, wait…” he started, “There’s something I don’t understand. If you’ve been in love with me this whole time, and you just decided now, like, _after_ the thing with the truth serum, to tell me… why would you want me there when you were under the truth serum? Wouldn’t you want me as far away as possible?”

 

Phil didn’t even hesitate before shaking his head. “I trust you,” he said simply.

 

“Okay, but… if I’m the one you were keeping this big secret from…?”

 

“Clint,” Phil said, reaching out to put his hand over Clint’s, “I was keeping this a secret from everyone. I didn’t want anyone to know how I felt about you, just like there are plenty of other things I can’t let anyone know. I have a lot of secrets, it comes with the job. But I trust you. I knew if I told you not to ask any questions, you just wouldn’t. No questions asked, so to speak,” he gave Clint a playful half-smile.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clint breathed. “I don’t think anyone’s ever trusted me that much before.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m your handler,” Phil shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

 

“But… I undermine your authority, like, all the time.”

 

Phil shook his head. “Not when it matters,” he stated, confident in his answer. “You’ve never ignored me when it mattered.”

 

“Fuck, so… if you’ve felt this way for so long… and if you don’t have to worry about me finding out now that the serum’s worn off… why now? Why are you telling me this now?”

 

Phil had thought about his answer to this, but that didn’t make it any easier to say. “I guess… I realized that if I could trust you enough to be that vulnerable in front of you… then why couldn’t I be vulnerable with you by just telling you how I felt? I guess I always knew you wouldn’t let something like this come between us, but… everything with the truth serum sort of reminded me? And I didn’t want to hide it any longer.”

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clint breathed again, then stopped asking questions and instead lunged forward to kiss Phil again. This time, Phil felt Clint’s tongue nudging at the edge of his bottom lip, and greedily opened his mouth to let him in.

 

The explored each other’s mouths passionately for several minutes, Clint running his hands up and down Phil’s back, and Phil burying his deep in Clint’s hair. When they finally came up for air, they only backed up far enough so that the tips of their noses were just touching.

 

Phil breathed Clint’s air in for a few seconds before he spoke again. “I suppose this means we’re going to have to fill out the HR paperwork for workplace relationships,” he suggested, as casually as he could manage, but really waiting on bated breath for the answer.

 

Clint just snorted. “Heh, I filled that out years ago,” he stated, “We just need to sign and date, and we’re good to go.”

 

Well that was new. “I’m sorry…” Phil asked, “You did paperwork before it was due? Voluntarily? Who are you and what have you done with Clint Barton?”

 

Clint laughed, but Phil noticed the way he ducked his head and curled his shoulders in to make himself smaller. “It was important,” Phil could just make out Clint’s quiet mumble.

 

_Wow_ , Phil thought. He really should have done this ages ago.

 

“Damn that’s hot,” he said, hoping to get Clint to settle back into his usual confident self. It worked.

 

Clint kissed him again, deeply, then said, “So, is this the part where we have hot, steamy sex and I find out how much of a kinky motherfucker Phil Coulson secretly is?”

 

Phil swallowed. “Pretty sure this is actually the part where you find out Phil Coulson cries during sex,” he replied. He dared to look up into Clint’s eyes as he waited for a response.

 

Clint grinned broadly. “Even better,” he said, then leaned in to capture Phil’s lips in his.


End file.
